


In Your Eyes

by grandcrack3r (spasticVocalist), MapleMage



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Abused Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Has Panic Attacks, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders is a Sweetheart, Bad Parenting, Bullying, Depressed Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Gen, How Do I Tag, Hurt Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, M/M, Magic instead of technology, Morality | Patton Sanders is a Good Friend, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Morality | Patton Sanders, Soulmates, Tags Are Hard, Virgil is Rapunzel if her isolation was self-inflicted, Virgil is basically an emo Disney princess, parental abandonment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2020-01-16 12:19:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18521398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spasticVocalist/pseuds/grandcrack3r, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleMage/pseuds/MapleMage
Summary: In a world where your eyes match one of the most important colors in your soulmate's life, a purple eyed prince is informed that a mysterious warlock has been terrorizing a distant region and volunteers to handle the situation with the help of his most trusted magical advisor. Far from the capital, a red eyed mage hides deep in a dark forest from the frightened harassment of the villagers.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Based of this post by royalroman: https://why-must-i-be-like-this.tumblr.com/post/183974079945/royalroman-au-where-your-eyes-represent-a-color  
> I haven't actually posted before soooo, go easy on me?  
> I've been writing for a couple of years so I don't expect it to be bad, but ya'know anxiety. 
> 
> I'm why-must-I-be-like-this on tumblr feel free to send me asks 
> 
> Thanks to @spaceyspades on tumblr and grandcrack3r/spasticvocalist here on ao3 for being my editor.

The Prince’s emerald eyes glittered as he stared down at his son where the babe laid in his mother's arms. The Princess smiled up at her husband, the light giving her earrings a sparkle to match the one in the Prince's eyes. “His eyes are beautiful, aren’t they?” She asked softly.

He gazed lovingly into his wife’s golden eyes as he replied, “Yes; royal purple. I wonder who his soulmate is and what they're like.”

“Someone wonderful, I’m sure,” She smiled wider; she couldn’t wait to meet her future child-in-law.

The little prince wasn’t quite coddled as he was raised. He was encouraged to try new things, but if anything went wrong, he could always fall back on the support of his loving parents. As the heir-apparent of his aunt, the Queen, he learned languages, martial arts, and mathematics. He flourished in his studies of literature and the arts; he wrote poetry and short stories, and drew sketches and comics. He grew to become a kind and respectful prince, loved throughout the land.

~~~

The baby’s cries broke the silence that had fallen after the child had first opened his eyes.

“What can it mean?” The whispers spread through the room. “Is it a demon?”

The new mother was torn between keeping the red-eyed thing at arm's-length and holding her baby close. The father, who had already backed away, turned and ran from the room.

The boy grew up quiet and afraid. He quickly learned to keep his head down, lest the other children throw rocks at him in the village streets. His mother tried to hide her apprehensions about him but failed. His father was never seen again. He eventually threw himself into the study of magic, because he could find nowhere else to turn. He sunk further and further into the shadows to avoid the jeering of his peers and suspicion of his elders, until he couldn’t be found at all as he fled into the forest to create a home for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good lord mm somehow managed to post the first draft of the prologue instead of the edited one. its fixed now. youre welcome. —gc (the beta)


	2. Chapter 1: And So It Begins

The stranger smiled up at the woman who sat on the throne.

“Why have you requested an audience with me?” The Queen asked as she crossed her legs and frowned down at the man. He was wearing a half cloak of all things, and the tunic beneath it was a tasteless shade of bright yellow.

“Well, your majesty, I thought that it might interest you to know that a warlock has been harassing one of your outlying villages." He gave an almost irreverent bow before he spoke. 

“That is interesting news, traveler.” She said, raising a skeptical eyebrow. 

“Indeed, ma’am; they say he hides in the dark forest when he isn’t terrorizing the villagers," he smiled. “I’m afraid that is all I know."

“Very well, pay him.” The Queen pursed her lips as the guards led the man away. As soon as the great doors closed, she scoffed. “I don’t believe a word of it.”

“He seemed quite sincere, Auntie,” Prince Roman said with a frown. “Although he wasn’t giving the situation the respect it deserved. It sounds like something that needs to be looked into – if only to reassure the people.”

“Quite so, nephew.” She raised an eyebrow as she spoke, then turned to smirk down at him. "Do you have someone in mind for that task?”

He shifted position on the much smaller throne that sat beneath and a little behind the queen's. “Well. I thought that Logan and I could go and investigate," he offered carefully. 

She let out an amused exhale and considered the not unexpected proposal. “I know you want to find adventure, but you must also keep in mind that you are my only possible heir since I have no children," she reminded him, sighing sadly. 

He took a deep breath. “Yes, I know, but like you said; it seems incredibly unlikely, and even if it’s true, I’ll have Logan with me. If he isn’t a match for the warlock, he can at least hold him off while we retreat.”

She studied her nephew. “You seem unusually passionate about this quest. Why?”

He smiled sheepishly before admitting, “Frankly, your majesty, I haven’t the faintest clue. It simply feels like this is my quest, and something will go horribly wrong if I let someone else take it from me.”

“Go pack, then, and let Logan know.” She acquiesced with a smile of her own. 

Roman dashed from the great hall in excitement. 

She grinned as the door at her back loudly closed behind her nephew. “Who wants to bet me five cornets that he’s going to come home with a soulmate?”

~~~

“Off we go on our epic quest; no hesitation, no stopping and no turning back!” Roman declared, sitting tall in his saddle, grinning out at the fields beyond the city gates and striking a dramatic pose. 

“Did you remember your headphones?” Logan asked without looking up from the map he was studying. 

“We’re turning back to get those. This is gonna suck if I don’t have some tunes or something." Roman threw his hands in the air with a disgruntled sigh. 

Logan rolled his eyes, chuckling fondly as he turned his horse to follow Roman back to the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's short, I promise they'll get longer. I was going to make Roman's parents king and queen, but I figured it could be gayer.  
> ~MM


	3. Chapter 2: Relieving Anxietea

Virgil stared at the ceiling. He knew he needed to get out of bed, but he just rolled onto his side, snuggled further under his blankets and closed his eyes. He was tired. He was always tired.

His eyes shot open in panic when the spell that told him when someone set foot in the forest was tripped. He bolted out of bed and scrambled down the stairs to his mirror, frantically pulling the sheet off of it once he reached it. “Show me who just came into the forest!” His image blurred as the mirror obeyed, showing him a familiar scene just inside the tree line. He let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He really needed to exempt the other man from that spell, but he wasn’t sure he liked the idea of anyone, even Patton, being able to show up at his door without warning.

“Well, I’m up now. Might as well get dressed.” He slowly climbed back up the stairs and opened the top drawer of his dresser. He sighed morosely as he looked at his shirts. Did he want to wear one of the black ones or one of the purple ones? He sighed again and grabbed a long purple one and a pair of black leggings from the drawer beneath them. After putting them on, he squirmed a bit before reaching into his wardrobe and pulling out a large, fluffy black sweater. Once he had donned the soft garment, he wandered back downstairs and put on the kettle; he was going to have company, after all. After that he climbed up to the top balcony of his tower.

He picked up his watering can with a small smile. It was shaped like an elephant spouting water from it’s trunk and had been a gift from Patton. He carefully filled it from a tap on one wall, and began watering his herbs in their planters. Growing them up here had been Patton’s idea. He noticed that they weren’t getting enough sunlight where Virgil had planted them on the forest floor, and had pointed out that there was plenty of sunlight inside now that he’d finally convinced Virgil to put in the large sky light that provided much of the tower's light. 

The knock on the tower door made Virgil jump, even though he had expected it. He rushed down the stairs to get the door.

“Hello, my sweet and sour, misunderstood shadowling. How are you today?” The taller man smiled brightly, holding his arms out for a hug. Virgil lunged into Patton’s arms.

“I’m doing okay, Pop-star,” Virgil distractedly mumbled as he reveled in the warmth and comfort of Patton’s hug. 

“That’s great, Virgil! Now, as much as I enjoy your hugs, these groceries aren’t going to take themselves in.” The older man laughed. Virgil waved a hand and mumbled something under his breath as he snuggled further into Patton’s chest. The bags sitting around their feet floated up and over their heads to the kitchenette. “Or maybe they will.” Patton shrugged with a laugh and scooped Virgil up. 

“Hey!” Virgil shrieked in surprise. 

Patton chuckled fondly as he carried him over to the couch. 

“What was that for?!”

“Well, the groceries might have taken themselves in, but that didn’t mean we could stand in the doorway all day. No matter how a- _door_ -able you are.”

Virgil stifled a giggle at his best friend's words.

“So, have you been drinking the teas I brought you last week?” Patton asked, concern evident in his voice, after setting Virgil on the couch. 

Virgil sighed. “Yeah, and I’ve been using some of the other things you brought me, like the candles and things.”

Patton smiled widely. “And are they helping?”

Virgil nodded. “Yeah, a little.”

“That’s wonderful, Virge!” Patton exclaimed and clapped his hands. 

Virgil smiled hesitantly, but jumped as the kettle started whistling. 

“I’ll handle that, kiddo.” Patton grinned. “I’ve got something new for you anyway.”

Virgil fidgeted with the too-long sleeves of his sweater. Patton’s grandmother had knitted it for him a few years back, knowing he found over-sized clothing comforting. He watched Patton bustle at the counter. The kitchenette, like his bed, appeared to be set into the wall of his tower, but that was simply an illusion caused by the bookshelves lining the walls. It was only because of Virgil’s magic that they all fit so snuggly against the curves of the circular space. Patton walked back to Virgil with a plate of muffins and two steaming mugs. He carefully set them down on the coffee table.

“The muffins are valerian and lemon balm; both are supposed to help with anxiety. I made them this morning, just for you.” Patton winked broadly and Virgil giggled a bit. “The tea is peppermint, which I read helps a lot of people feel calmer.”

“Patton, how many mental health blogs are you following?” Virgil let out a mildly exasperated sigh.

“About twelve, I think. It’s most of my mirronet history, honestly.” Patton grinned a bit sheepishly. 

The mirronet was a marvelous invention around three decades old. It was a massive magical cache of information that could be accessed and interacted with via magic mirror, and was based on the technology of calls between magic mirrors, which had been the gateway to discovering not only ways to link mirrors across long distances, but to discovering how to store and access information from any mirror.

“Anyway, go on; try them. I’ll bet you haven’t eaten.” Patton frowned, and Virgil avoided his gaze by looking at a steaming mug and deciding to try a muffin first. Patton was right, he hadn’t eaten yet. 

The muffins were good, like everything Patton made. They tasted strongly of citrus and mint, which he knew meant it was more lemon balm than valerian root from the teas Patton had gotten him. They were very sweet, but Virgil liked sweet things and Patton knew that. He finished his first two quickly and reached for another.

“Hey, slow down there, slugger! The tea should be cool enough now, so why not drink some of that first.” Patton offered him one of the mugs. There did seem to be less steam rising from it. Virgil took it from him, and took a slightly hesitant sip. 

“Well, it’s certainly _mint-tea_.” He smiled shyly at Patton, looking for approval of his pun. He seemed to get it as the older man’s eyes lit up and he grinned widely at him, clapping his hands together in excitement. 

“Do you like it?” Patton was almost bouncing in his seat; he clearly had a pun of his own planned. 

Virgil nodded – it really was good. 

“Well, I suppose that this is simply _mint_ to be, then!” He grinned at Virgil, who smiled back. 

Virgil really valued Patton, not just because he brought him groceries so that he wouldn't have to venture out into a society that hated and feared him, but also for his wonderful friendship and his ability to lighten his mood no matter how bad he'd been feeling. He considered Patton to be the most amazing person he'd ever met, and he was yet to be proven wrong. 

As the two sat in comfortable silence with their breakfast and Virgil felt something like contentment settle in his chest, he had a sense that this was going to be, if not a great day, then at least a good one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The “mirronet” was invented long before our protagonists were born. It is not unlike our internet; you can conduct research, talk to your friends, post about your life, or just watch fun reflections of other people's cats. The mage who created put in several pieces in the spell to insure that access to it could not be monetized. Because of their care, anyone with a magic mirror can access it from anywhere in their world.
> 
> (editing at 2 am seems like a fun idea while youre doing it right up until you wake up regretting your existence and remember that sleep deprivation is counterproductive to fixing grammar. i think i got everything i missed but if i didnt then feel free to point out the error in the comments and laugh obnoxiously in my general direction —gc)


	4. Chapter 3: Happy Aryevals

“What a beautiful morning, don’t you think, Lo?” Prince Roman grinned at his traveling companion as they directed their horses back onto the road. 

“Yes, I suppose it is, and now that I can see our surroundings better I feel a bit foolish. We're only about a mile outside of the village.” Logan frowned as he spoke. 

“And how can you be so sure, Calculator Watch?” Roman raised a quizzical eyebrow. 

Logan huffed as he adjusted the tiny mirror strapped to his right wrist. It was, in fact, a calculator watch, but he only used it for particularly complicated magical equations. He could do most math in his head.

“I recognize those trees.” He pointed at a pair of trees that had wound about each other as they’d grown. “They’re a bit bigger now bu-"

Roman held out an arm to quiet Logan. “Hang on, why are you so familiar with the local flora that you know exactly how far they are from the village?”

Logan blinked and said “I grew up around here,” like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“And you didn’t think to mention this until now!?” Roman’s eyes lit up. 

“I… I didn’t think it was pertinent.” Logan lied.

“Oh, well. I know now! I can’t wait to see all your old haunts and meet all your childhood friends!” Roman exclaimed in delight. 

Logan made a noncommittal noise as he set his steed walking forward. If his theory was correct, that would certainly be a memorable encounter.

~~~

Logan looked around as his horse trotted into the village center. It was smaller than he remembered – not that it had ever seemed very big to start with. He could see the two story school house that his mother had taught in for so many years. He didn’t really remember her – she had died when he was small – but he remembered that building. He’d never met his father, so when his mother died the other teachers at the school had taken him in, sort of. They had let him stay in the attic, where they kept all the spare books, as he had with his mother. They made sure he had enough to eat and clothes to wear, and in exchange, he became their tiny assistant. They were the ones who sponsored him for the Royal Mage Academy.

“Lo, do know the way to a bakery on the edge of town? I think he said it was called ‘For Goodness' Bake’?” Roman asked, aiming a bright grin at him.

Logan frowned at the pun. “Well, I don’t know about the name, but I do know where the bakery is.” He nudged his horse forward. They crossed the square and turned left next to his childhood home.

It wasn’t even five minutes before they reached the bakery, and there was indeed a sign swinging in the breeze that read “For Goodness' Bake.”

They tied their horses' reigns to a nearby fence post and headed inside, the bell attached to the door ringing as they entered. They had just begun to look around when a loud crash sounded from the kitchen.

“It sounds as though something's gone a-rye,” Logan stated with a frown. He was just about to ask why they were here, when a young man in a pale pink tunic and a powder blue baker’s apron walked out of the doorway behind the counter. 

“Ha, good one!” The man chirped and grinned at Logan, dark blue eyes shining behind large circular spectacles. He had a spattering freckles across his nose, and Logan wasn’t sure why he’d noticed that. 

“That- that wasn’t intentional.” Logan stumbled over his words as one hand reached up to grasp his mother’s amulet underneath his shirt.

“Patton!” 

Logan jumped at the sudden shout and turned to stare at Roman, who was beaming at the baker. 

Said baker clapped his hands in excitement. “Roman! It has been way to long!” He rushed around the counter and hugged the prince. “So, who’s your friend?” Those glittering eyes turned back on Logan as the two released each other from their hug. 

“This is my pal, Logan! He’s lovely.” Roman clapped Logan on the back. “He’s a junior royal mage. Look at what he made me!” The Royal pulled his headphones out of his pocket to show his friend. “They connect to my mirror and play the audio from it straight,” the royal snickered at his own word choice, “into my ears!”

“Wow!” The man – Patton – took a step towards Logan. “That’s… really cool!” 

He ducked his head to hide a small smile. “Oh. It- it was nothing; plenty of other technomancers have created similar devices. It’s not a big deal.” Logan could feel his face heating up as he looked over at Roman. 

“Oh, right! Logan, this is Patton! He’s the castle cook's son. We grew up together, but he left to take care of his ailing grandmother. I called him before we left to ask if he had a spare room for us to use while we're here, and he did!” He pulled both if them into a tight hug. “This is going to be so fun! Both my best friends in one place! I’m so excited!”

“Oh, that’s nice, Roman,” Logan tried to gently push his friend off him, but couldn’t get any leverage. “Uh… perhaps we could fetch our things if we’re staying here?”

“Oh! Yes, let’s do that now.” Roman let go and whirled around, almost skipping out the door. “Come on, Lo!”

“Go on; I’ll show you upstairs after I check on my apprentice. He dropped a bowl of icing right after you came in.” Patton laughed. Logan nodded and turned to follow Roman out, but the smaller man grabbed his hand. “Tell Ro-Ro not to worry about your horses. The kid's family raises them, and I’m sure he’d love to take care of yours.” Logan’s heart pounded in his chest as he watched the sandy haired man go back into the kitchen, before slowly leaving to help Roman. He only looked back once. 

“What was that?!” Roman was on him as soon as the bakery door closed. “You never miss an opportunity to babble on about technology, but when I give you an opening, you say ‘It’s no big deal’?! That didn’t even sound like you!” Roman threw his arms in the air and started moving towards the horses, but whirled back to point at Logan. “And another thing! Were you stuttering?! What is up with you right now?” 

“Patton said not to worry about the horses, his apprentice can handle them.” Logan blurted out, desperately hoping to distract the prince. 

“Pat has an apprentice?” Roman looked mildly taken aback. “Huh. Wait! You can’t distract me that easily, Spell Book! Tell me what’s up!” It took him no more than a second to remember the original topic of their conversation. 

Logan sighed. “I have no idea, Roman. Can we get our things?” He gave Roman the look he usually reserved for distracted students. 

“Ugh! Fine! But we're talking about this later!” Roman exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air again and heading off to unload the horses.


	5. Chapter 4: What's The Opposite of Meet-Cute?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (this chapter is Rude —gc)

Virgil leaned out the window, allowing the wind to ruffle through his hair, and let out a contented sigh. It had been a good day so far. He hadn’t actually had to force himself out of bed that morning. He’d even felt like eating breakfast! He smiled as he watched the trees rustle in the breeze, breathing in the scent of the forest. He didn’t even notice when he began to hum as he settled down to lean on the window sill. He sat there for a while, content with life, his humming getting slowly louder until he opened his mouth and began to sing softly. 

“… Just wondering when will my life begin?” It was a song from one of his favorite mirro-mated movies. He was always shyly proud that he never had to take the princesses' songs down more than an octave, if at all, to sing them comfortably himself. He sang several more bars before a raven dropped from the sky to land next to him. 

“What is it, Millie?” Had Virgil named all the crows and ravens that liked to follow him about? Yes, but he had no plans of letting anyone in on that particular secret. 

“We haven’t seen you for a while is all. We were getting worried." Millie responded. Virgil had discovered the spell that allowed him to talk to animals several years back, and had found himself befriending the local wildlife ever since. 

“I don’t know if you heard that thump the other night, but Will decided to come in to check on you, only forgot she glass existed.” She ruffled her feathers, scoffing at her mate's foolishness.

“That sounds like Will, alright.” Virgil chuckled. He hadn’t heard it. He supposed that must have been when Patton had visited and Virgil had fallen asleep while they watched a movie downstairs. “Is she alright?”

“Nothing but her pride injured; you know how thick her skull is.” Millie let out the soft cawing that was the raven equivalent of a laugh. “I also wanted to let you know that the berries you like are ripe.”

Virgil smiled. “Thank you for letting me know, Millie.” He took a breath, before slowly saying, “I think I’ll go get some of those now, actually.”

“We’ll be waiting. Don’t take too long, Virge.” 

Millie dived off the ledge as Virgil moved away from the window. He left it open; the place needed airing out. He walked down stairs, put on his boots, and grabbed his cloak from it’s hook by the door. He carefully fastened it around his neck with the silvery raven pin that Patton had given him for his birthday a few years back. He never left his tower without his cloak, and he certainly didn’t go as near to the edge of forest as the berry patches were without the anonymity its deep hood provided. 

He lifted the basket he used for berry-picking from it’s place on the ground beside the door and hesitated. He hadn’t been outside in months. Reaching out, he carefully opened the door, took a deep breath, and stepped outside. It was early autumn and the leaves had just begun to turn. He shuddered as a wave of warm air flowed over him. He took a deep breath and started walking toward the berry patches as Will swept down onto his shoulder. 

“Hey! We’ve been worried about you.” The raven carefully nuzzled at Virgil’s face with the side of her head. 

“So Millie tells me.” He smiled. “Thank you for trying to check on me.”

Will ruffled her feathers, pleased at the praise. “Anytime, friend,” She crowed in delight. 

“Hey! Get up here and fly with me, lazybones!” Millie called from well above Virgil’s head. 

Will chuckled and launched herself into the air. “The missus calls.” 

Virgil smiled up at them as they flew in wide acrobatic displays together. It wasn’t long before he reached the clearing he wanted. Virgil adjusted his hood to make sure it covered his face and got to work. He picked black berries, mulberries, and raspberries. How all the berry bushes had ended up in one clearing was anyone’s guess, but he was grateful none the less. 

He scowled up at the elderberry shrub. He let out an exasperated sigh, and carefully channeled his power to levitate himself up to the higher branches. He could reach the bottom branches with ease, even as small as he was, but he knew he had advantages that most people didn’t, which is why he always got his elder berries from the top of the shrub. 

“You, there!” 

Virgil froze at the shout. He must be just close enough to the edge of the forest that, as high as he had floated, he could be seen by someone who had yet to trip his spell. He swallowed his squeak of fear as he let himself fall. It was slower than it should have been, but far faster than he’d risen. He stumbled as he hit the ground and started running. His heart pounded violently in his chest. 

“Halt, stranger!”

Virgil ran as fast as he could between the trees, but his pursuer seemed to either get more exercise than he did, have longer legs, or both. The other man was quickly caught up. Virgil frantically mumbled a spell that threw a large branch in the stranger’s path, but he just leapt over it. Virgil muttered the incantation for what he called Tempest Tongue and whirled around to run backwards while he aimed his next spell. He’d just begun the phrase that would wrench the sword out of the other man’s hands, when he stepped on the hem of his cloak. He choked back a shriek of terror as he began to fall. 

Virgil could distantly hear the shout of “Roman, _NO_!” just before he felt the blade sink into his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Did I realize I could give them any vocal-ranges I wanted? Yes. Am I acting on this realization? Definitely. Is Virgil a tenor in this universe? Yes. 
> 
> 2\. Will and Millie are short for Wilhemina and Millicent and they love each other.


	6. Chapter 5: Panic and Pattonted Apologies

Roman dropped his sword and stared in horror at the young man sprawled at his feet. His head hung forward, his bangs flopping over his eyes. Roman couldn’t stop himself from being entranced by the deep, familiar purple of the smaller man’s hair. He shook himself to pull his thoughts back to the matter at hand and carefully knelt down. “H-hey… I’m so-“ The purple haired man - his soulmate, he had to be - hissed and frantically scrambled away from him. Roman stood back up, holding his hands apart, trying seem as unthreatening as possible. “Okay, I’m just going to take a look at your arm, alright?” He took a small step forward, and the other man clambered to his feet. He whirled around and ran with a small scared noise. 

“Wait! Please, I di-“ Roman called after him. 

“Oh god…” Logan shoved past him violently.

“Virgil! Wait!” Logan chased after the small figure. They must be friends Roman thought vaguely. Roman sunk to his knees as he saw the fallen basket on the forest floor. It’s contents scattered across the fall foliage. He’d been picking berries. He’d attacked an innocent man. He’d attacked his soulmate. He’d seemed so small and fragile. He’d been shaking like a leaf. Oh god. He’d traumatized his soulmate. Oh god. He knelt there on the forest floor desperately trying to think of a way to fix this. He carefully picked up the basket, but the berries couldn’t be salvaged. He’d have to pick some more. He’d find some flowers too. Patton would know where to look, and he’d probably have some ideas too. He’d always been good at interpersonal things. It was Patton that had taught Roman that a simple gift with a personal touch was usually better received than an impersonal display of grandeur. He walked slowly back to Patton’s bakery. He wasn’t shaking, and he certainly wasn’t crying.

The bakery was empty as he walked inside. He took a deep breath. “Pat? Can we talk,” he called hesitantly into the back. 

“Sure, Ro-Ro! What’s wrong?” Patton smiled at him as he walked out from the back, until the look on Roman’s face registered. “Nathan, head home, okay? I’m closing up early today.”

“Alright, Boss! I’ll check on your friends' horses before I go, too.” Patton’s apprentice called from the kitchen. 

“Thanks, kiddo.” Patton smiled softly before becoming concerned again. “Now, what happened, Ro-Ro?”

“I messed up, Pat. I messed up bad.” Roman mumbled as Patton flipped the sign on the door to read closed.

“Are you okay? What exactly happened? Where is Logan?” Patton asked after turning back to face him. 

“No! I maimed my soulmate! And hell if I know!” Roman dramatically flopped onto one of the chairs in the waiting area and put his head in his hands. 

“What?! I- Start from the beginning please?” The Baker stared at the prince in confusion.

“Well,” the royal sighed, “when we left this morning I was bit vague about what we were doing, and I’m sorry about that.” 

Patton nodded, he’d been a bit annoyed about that. 

“I didn’t want to worry you with what has turned out to be nothing but a rumor. A man came to the court saying that there was a mage harassing the villagers here, and that he was living in that forest.”

“Well, I could have told you that was a lie!” Patton huffed and put his hands on his hips. “The villagers have been harassing him his whole life! That’s why he lives in the woods!”

“What? Why?” Roman’s eyebrows furrowed with concern. 

“His eyes are… bright red.” Patton’s eyes widened. “The same bright red as your favorite formal sash. I’d almost forgot you’d mentioned a soulmate… Well, what happened?”

“We’d been going around the edge of the forest when I spotted someone in a black cloak floating among the trees. I called out to them but they ran, so I chased them, assuming they were the sorcerer.” Roman sighed. 

“What did dad always say about assuming?” Patton frowned. 

“It makes an as out of su and me. In any case, they used magic to throw a branch at me, so I’d pulled my sword out to parry anything else they tossed my way. They turned around to aim, I guess, but tripped on something and fell. I couldn’t slow down, and had already been swinging to block the next attack. It cut into his arm as he fell.” Roman put his head back in his hands. “Oh, Pat, what am I going to do? Can I fix this?”

“Well, Ro-Ro, since it was an accident, I’m sure that between the two of us we can think of something. I’ve actually known Virgil for a few years now an-“

“Really?! What’s he like? He looked so sweet. Do you know why he's so small? Does he dye his hair that purple? Do you know how Logan knows him?” Roman looked up with a half smile as he rattled off questions. 

“Slow down, Roman! Yes, he is sweet and very shy. No, I haven’t asked. No, it’s natural. And no. Is that where Logan went, to help him?” Patton smiled softly. 

“Yeah, he shoved me out of the way and ran after him. I’m glad he’s not going to be alone,” Roman sighed. “But I wish he hadn’t run from me.”

“You’d just stuck a sword in him, Ro-Ro, whether you meant to or not. Running is an understandable reaction, especially for him. I’m amazed he was even outside to begin with.” Patton sat down on the chair next to Roman. 

“He was picking berries.” Roman looked at the ground as he lifted up the basket as exhibit a. “I was going to get him some more as part of my apology.”

“Oh. That’s a good idea, he really does like berries.” Patton thought a bit more. “Were you going to get him flowers too?”

“I was thinking I would. How… how bad… what did… what did they do to him?” Roman frowned. 

“I don’t know, he doesn’t like talking about it. I know he has some nasty scars, and he eats like he’s afraid someone's going to take the food away any second. He also refuses to leave the forest.” Patton grimaced. 

Roman felt sick. His soulmate had suffered so much he refused to leave his home, for fear of more pain, because of the eyes that marked him as Roman’s other half. He fidgeted with the sleeves of his deep red shirt. He hoped the small man, Virgil, wouldn’t blame him, but a voice in the back of his head kept treacherously pointing out that it would only be fair. It was his fault, after all.


	7. Chapter 6: Healing Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things don't change.

Thunder crashed above Logan's head as he stumbled to a halt a few feet from Virgil’s wards. He’d known Virgil was the mage they'd been sent to investigate as soon as he’d gotten close enough to feel the alarm spell around the forest. Virgil’s magic felt like the windy calm before a storm; like a hard candy with a soft center; like sitting by a bonfire on a cold night; like huddling under blankets as thunder echoes above; like the smell of lightening in the air; like sound of sad music in the distance and a dozen other things. It felt like Virgil. No mage could explain it any better than that, and Logan’s love of poetry allowed him to describe what his sixth sense perceived far better than most. He carefully examined the spell in front of him. 

The wards were both simple and complex. The base spell simply stopped beings from passing through, but Virgil had taken the time to exempt the animals living in the forest from the spell as well as… someone who felt the way chocolate chip muffins smell, like sun light on a cloudy day, like listening to your best friend laugh at a bad joke, soft and warm and safe. They felt like cuddles by a fire on a winter evening. He was far too caught up in the way this person felt; it seemed as though something was flapping about in his stomach. Was this what Roman had meant when he’d talked about ‘butterflies in his stomach’? They felt like… Patton? That’s who it was. It had to be. No one else Logan had ever encountered had been so… lovely. He’d have to ask Virgil, but to do that he had to get past these wards. 

He absently renewed the spell that was keeping him safe from the storm as he pulled out a piece of chalk and a length of string. He’d tried calling Virgil last night, but his calls wouldn’t go through. Logan was forced to assume he didn’t have a mirror. There were spells that could block calls from unknown mirrors, but they were high level magic and Virgil had never received the training that would allow him to cast one. 

Logan tapped some symbols in to his watch and began to draw runes across the spell with the chalk. It would be simpler to just take the spell down, but that would most likely frighten Virgil into believing Logan had ill intent. Leaving the enchantment intact but creating a sort of gap he could slip through would be far more complicated, but worthwhile if it helped Virgil feel safe. He was here to help, after all. 

He stepped on one end of the string and tied the other end around the piece of chalk. He drew a large half circle across the ward, using the full extension of the string to make it as precise as possible, and spoke an incantation. He ducked under the arching hole he’d put in the spell, and with another word, the hole collapsed, returning the ward to its normal state. 

Logan walked the thirty yards to the door of the dark stone tower. He adjusted his shirt and gently knocked on the door. 

“Wh-who is it?” He could hear the quiver of fear in his old friend's voice. 

He remembered the first time he’d heard him sound that scared. Logan had climbed up to the schoolhouse attic that evening to find six-year-old Virgil huddled in his blankets, shaking in fear and covered in blood. Virgil's mother’s boyfriends had never treated him well, but it hadn’t been that bad before. Despite how carefully Logan had dressed the younger boy' wounds, the lash marks across his back had gotten infected. Logan had spent the next week tending to a half-conscious and delirious Virgil. That was how he’d learned how to cast a silencing charm. He’d been eight.

“It’s me, Virgil.” He resisted the urge to open the door and hold his friend. 

“Lo-Lo? Is… is that you?” Virgil sound hesitant but hopeful.

“Yes, Virge. It's Logan.” He smiled, pushing his glasses up his face. “But if you insist on that childish nickname, I suppose it will work.” 

The door flung open to reveal Virgil, with tears streaking down his face. 

“I’m sorry about all this. Can I see your arm?” Logan apologized softly. 

Virgil reluctantly nodded, maneuvering the wounded limb out from beneath his bloodied cloak. The cut was long but moderately shallow; it definitely could have been far worse. 

“Do you have a first aid kit in there?” Logan asked. 

Virgil nodded again, stepping aside to let Logan past him.

The space was surprisingly bright and airy. A soft curved coach sat in the middle of the book lined room. A large object hung on the wall covered in a sheet. There was a small kitchenette tucked between the shelves on the other side of the room. 

Logan looked around, glancing at the titles of the books on the shelf nearest him. “This is really nice, Virgil, did you build it yourself?” 

“Yes,” Virgil quietly padded over to the kitchen and pulled a white box from under the sink. “Here’s the first aid kit, Lo-Lo.”

Logan took the box and set it on the oval-shaped coffee table as he gestured Virgil to the couch. The smaller man did as he was silently instructed and sat on the edge of furnishing. Logan carefully unfastened the cloak, taking note of the shining pin holding it closed.

“You’ll have to take your shirt off,” he pointed out as he carefully folded the cloak and placed it beside the first aid kit. 

Virgil made an uncomfortable noise. 

“Come on, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” He encouraged. 

Virgil reluctantly pulled his shirt over his head. 

Logan frowned as he opened the first aid kit. “You’re not eating enough. I can count your ribs.”

“I don’t always feel like eating,” Virgil mumbled as he tossed his ruined shirt on to the table. 

“You should eat anyway. I hate seeing you this thin. It’s not healthy.” Logan pulled out a roll of bandages and a small jar of ointment labeled “for cuts”. “Do you have any alcohol?” He asked as he wiped the blood away from the wound. He’d made sure to take several first aid courses once he reached the capital, and now knew where he’d gone wrong in the past. 

“No, but the cream has an antiseptic in it already.” Virgil fidgeted in his seat. 

“Alright. Then this is going to sting a bit.” Logan opened the jar and carefully smeared some of the mixture on Virgil’s wound. “Did you make this?”

“Yes,” Virgil winced. “And a few other things as well.”

“That’s good, I always thought you needed a hobby.” Logan wiped his hands on the rag he’d used to wipe down Virgil’s arm, and carefully started winding the bandages around the injured appendage. He tore off the excess of the light cloth once he deemed that he’d sufficiently covered the injury. “I’m going to make tea, alright?” 

Virgil nodded and the older man rose and walked to the kitchenette. He put the kettle on and started looking through Virgil’s box of teas. “You’ve got quite the selection. Ooh, jasmine and passionflower sounds nice. Do you still take your tea with four sugars, or have you gone sweeter?” The taller man gently teased. 

“Still four, Lo-Lo, and a dash of cream.” Virgil said, watching his old friend bustling around his kitchenette for a while before getting up and walking upstairs. He grabbed his favorite sweater from his wardrobe and carefully put it on, wincing as he stuck his injured arm into it’s sleeve. He hesitated for a minute before grabbing a specific book off one of the shelves by his bed. He walked back down slowly. The rain was pounding on the roof, but seemed to have slowed down a bit. It was a comforting noise, a lot of his happiest memories involved rain. His mother had never felt like tracking him down on rainy evenings, so he often slept with Logan in his attic den. He set the book down on the coffee table and started pulling spare blankets and pillows from the drawers underneath the couch. He quietly lugged them all the way to the top level of his tower, to the spot beneath the sky light. There were already cushions and blankets enough for Virgil but not enough for the both of them. He’d just finished arranging them just the way he wanted them when the kettle went off down bellow. Virgil hurried back down the stairs and scooped the book back up just as Logan turned back to the couch. 

“And what have you been up to?” Logan raised an eyebrow, he had a mug of tea in each hand. Virgil shrugged and gestured for the other to follow him. He led him up the stairs to the pile of pillows and just stood there for a bit before he spoke. “I-I was thinking that, uh, we could…” 

Logan smiled softly. "Curl up together like we did when we were kids?” 

Virgil nodded and hesitantly held out the book. 

“Is that…?”

“The book of folktales you always read to me when we were little, uh, yeah. It is.” Virgil hunched his shoulders and looked at the ground. It had been a stupid thought. Logan hadn’t read to him for years. 

“If you’re asking me to read to you, I will.” 

Virgil looked up at the soft offer. 

Logan smiled at him. “Well?” 

Virgil clambered down into the blanket nest and took the mugs from Logan so that he could sit down as well. 

“Now, which story to start with?” He picked up the book in one hand as Virgil snuggled up against him. “How does the story of four witches sound, Virge?”

Virgil laid his head on the larger man’s shoulder. “You know that’s my favorite, Lo-Lo.” 

Logan read him several more stories as the storm slowly calmed around them. The sky cleared just as Virgil finally drifted off to sleep. Logan tucked the small man closer to him as he watched the stars. He hadn’t wanted to leave all those years ago, but he’d thought that if he worked hard enough in the two years before Virgil was eligible to attend the RMA he would be able to sponsor him and get him away from here. His plan had worked, but by then no one knew where Virgil could be found. He couldn’t help but feel he’d let him down by not looking harder back then. He’d been so busy, but he should have made time to search. If he had, then none of this would have happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, but we all knew I couldn't keep that pace up indefinitely. I will be back with the next chapter as soon as possible. Until then, have fun.
> 
> (the delay was also partially my fault rip it took me like a week to edit bc of a combination of my being in the process of going through all of my belongings to get rid of things i no longer want and reorganize what im keeping (probably tmi rip in peace but w/e) and my hyperfocus shifting to a new fandom —gc)


	8. Chapter 7: Apology Arrangements

Patton smiled as Roman muttered to himself. He hadn’t opened the bakery that day; this was more important. Nathan had been and gone, promising to come check on the horses again later on.

“What could I give him?” The sound of Roman’s pacing feet made a pleasant contrast to the light clicking of Patton’s knitting needles. “Jewelry would probably make me look like a snobby bastard. Clothes could be interpreted as an insult. Berries and flowers are good, but that could never be enough.” He threw his hands in the air with a dramatic sigh. “Why couldn’t the thing troubling his life be something I could kill?! And why is thinking of something else I could do to make him feel special and show how awesome I am so difficult!?” 

“Well, maybe we can focus on the ‘making him feel special’ bit for now.” Patton smiled up at fondly at his old friend as he spoke. 

“I’ll write him a poem! Or a song!” Roman stopped, grinning in excitement. 

“That’s a good idea, but,” Patton’s smile turned a bit sad. “That might be a bit much, too soon. If that makes sense. I’m afraid even one of your more subdued gestures, may startle him. He wouldn’t know how to respond, which might make him feel inadequate, and that’s no way to start a relationship.”

Roman sighed. “You’re probably right.” He flopped forlornly onto to the other armchair. “Do you think I should leave it at the flowers and fruit, for now?” 

Patton thought for a moment before responding. “Yes. Although… throwing some sweets in might not be a bad choice. He has such a sweet tooth," the baker giggled. “I could bake some of those jam cookies he likes…”

“A gift basket!” Roman cried suddenly. “Patton you’re brilliant! I can write him an apology letter! Oh! Could you write me a letter of reference, Pat?”

“Of course, I can even deliver the whole thing for you.” Patton smiled going back to his knitting. 

“I was hoping to do that, if you think that would be okay?” Roman’s brows furrowed in concern. Letters were all well and good, but he wanted a chance to apologize in person.

“I think we could work something like that out.” Patton said thoughtfully, “I’ll have to call ahead, so that Virge can temporarily exempt you from his wards. Or maybe we could meet at the wards? I don’t know. I’m sure we can work something out.” He suddenly grinned. “We can get the berries on the way in, so they’re fresh!”

“Oh, good! Oh, do know what flowers he likes?” Roman asked excitedly.

“Not specifically, but I know he likes purple and black…” Patton’s nose crinkled in thought. “I think I saw a book of flower meanings at his house once, if that helps.”

“Oh, Patton! That is good! I can send him a message in the flowers too!” Roman clapped his hands. “Alright… How to say ‘I’m sorry’ in black and purple… Lilies in both would work, but black would be better… Violets me-“

“Hey, Ro-Ro? Mind keeping your speculation in your head for a bit? I’m going to call him when I’m done with this row, and I’m almost finished.” Patton smiled softly at Roman’s excitement.

“Oh, yeah.” The room was quiet as Roman pulled a notebook from… somewhere and started frantically scribbling. 

Patton finished his row and put his knitting down on the side table. He walked over to the small mirror-table in the corner of the room. It doubled as a vanity, because like most people, Patton could only afford one mirror. Patton softly settled into the chair, and checked to see that Roman was out of the frame. He cleared his throat and said in a clear, steady voice: “Mirror, call My Dark, Strange Son.”

“You don’t use couplets?” Roman asked as the mirror rang softly in the background. “Also, dark, strange son? Really?”

“No. I’m not good at thinking them up, and Virgil is a hard word to rhyme. And yes, really, they let you change contact names.” Patton nodded. 

“Yeah, so that they're easier to write couplets for.” Roman laughed, “How old is he, anyway?”

“Oh… about your age actually, I think you might a few months ol-“ A soft chime interrupted him, signaling that the call had been picked up. “Hey, Vir- Logan! Hello! How is he?” 

“He will be… alright, Patton. I bandaged his wound, and I believe him to still be asleep at the moment.” Roman couldn’t see the mirror, but that was definitely Logan. 

Logan was with his soulmate. 

No, that wasn’t the issue. 

His soulmate trusted Logan more than him? 

Yeah, that was it. 

It was a ridiculous thing to be upset about, especially under the circumstances, yet… He didn’t think he could make this feeling just… go away, even though it was entirely unreasonable. He was glad that both his best friends got along with his soulmate, but he wasn’t so sure about this whole thing where they both knew him before he did.

“Lo-Lo?” That was a new voice, one he’d never heard before. It had to be his soulmate, his Virgil. He sounded so sweet. Roman gripped his pencil tighter, resisting the urge to step into frame so he could see him. It wouldn’t do any good. “What’s going on?” 

“Patton called to ask if you would be willing to meet him and our friend Roman at your wards. I’m told he’d like to deliver his apology in person.” Logan’s voice was level, and you would have to have known if for a long time to hear the hesitation in it. 

“Do you think that would be a good idea, Virge?” Patton’s voice was soft and hopeful. 

“Will you be there? Both of you?” Virgil sounded hesitant and nervous. 

“Yes,” Logan spoke firmly, giving no one room to argue. 

“Well… I… suppose that would… be okay, I guess…” Virgil’s voice shook slightly as he spoke. 

Roman was fraught with useless jealously. He wasn’t sure he had… the vigor to bare this… loss of pride he was feeling. It felt entirely unfair that his soulmate was so afraid of him that he felt he needed two separate chaperones to meet him. He knew he had it coming, that this was all his fault, but it still hurt. He hoped this meeting would go well. It was a chance to start over, and he felt certain that it was going to be the only one he would get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so very, very, very sorry this is so late. I've had a really busy summer and just started college, so time has been scant. I will be continuing this story, it just might take a while. I need to settle in to the new routine, and I might be getting my first job soon. I will try to set up a regular schedule of updates, buuut I'm not very good at that sort of thing.


	9. Chapter 8: Six Things

He didn’t have a thing to wear. 

 

All of Virgil’s clothes were comfortable and functional. He didn’t have anything for impressing people, since he hardly ever saw people. Except for Patton, of course, and now Logan. He was quietly ecstatic about that. They hadn’t spoken in two years, but they fell back together so easily, it was almost as if Logan had never left. Virgil had cried himself to sleep for weeks surrounding his departure, even though he knew he was going to come back for him. He hadn’t been able to make it a week living in the village without Logan to back him up. He shook his head, and tried to focus. 

 

He supposed there was always… 

 

He reached into the back of his wardrobe and pulled out a wooden box. He placed it gently on his bed, and carefully opened it and lifted out the clothing within. Patton got them for him because wearing nice clothes can help lift one's spirits. They were still wrapped in tissue paper because he’d never felt comfortable with the idea of wearing something so beautiful for no reason. He never quite felt like he deserved them, either. They must have cost Patton an awful lot of money. Money he could have spent on clothes for himself, or upgrading the bakery, or a hand-mirror, or passage back to the capital to see his family and his other friends- to see the prince. 

 

Oh god. 

 

_The prince._

 

He was going to meet _the prince._

 

_The prince was his soulmate._

 

_Oh god._

 

What if he messed this up? What if _his own soulmate rejected him?_ What if the he _hated_ red? It’s a well-established fact that your soulmate’s eyes aren’t necessarily your favorite color – as such things tend to fluctuate – simply a color that means something to you. They could be any color that means something to you, not just one you like. They could be the exact color of the last sunset you watched with your mother, or the color of the dress your best friend got you before they moved away. So, what if his eyes are the same color as the blood of a dead loved one, or a gift from someone who betrayed him, or the sun he watched set over a battlefield after they lost the day, or maybe they matched the scales of a dragon that he slew because it was tormenting the kingdom, or the bloody bandages after the first time he lost a fi- 

 

“ _Virgil. Tell me six things you can sense._ ” 

 

“Logan. Mirror. Forest. Storm. Blanket. Wards.” Virgil felt sick. His heart was pounding, and he couldn’t seem to breathe. He was cold. He was hot. He was... scared. 

 

“Now, tell me five things you can see.” 

 

“Logan. Books. Lamp. Blanket. Box.” Virgil’s hands stopped shaking, but only because Logan was gripping them tight. 

 

“Now, four things you can feel.” 

 

“Hands. Pants. Shirt. Sweater.” Breathing had gotten easier, and Virgil didn’t quite feel as though his heart was going to burst out of his chest anymore. He was still cold, and scared, but it wasn’t so bad.

 

“Three things you can hear.” 

 

“Thunder. Rain. Kettle.” The rain seemed to be slowing down as his heartbeat did, and Virgil wasn’t feeling cold anymore, even if the pit of sick dread was still in his stomach.

 

“Two things you can smell.” 

 

“Salve. Herbs.” The pit was smaller now than it was before, even if it didn’t – as if it would ever – leave. Virgil was still so scared. 

 

“One thing you can taste.” 

 

“A bitter taste in my mouth, probably caused by the tea I over steeped.” The pit was still there, but it didn’t feel like it was swallowing Virgil anymore. He was still scared, but he was in control again. 

 

“I know your mind wanders,” Logan smiled sadly at him, “But remember: you are here. You are in your home. You are safe, and even if you weren’t, anyone trying to hurt you would have to go through me.” Logan’s expression became set and determined. “And believe me, that would be much harder than it was when we were kids. Virgil? Are you alright?” 

 

“Huh? Oh yeah, of course, Lo-Lo. Why?” Virgil tilted his head. 

 

“You’re... crying.” Logan let go of one of Virgil’s hands and gently wiped away a tear. 

 

“Oh. I guess I am.” Virgil let out a watery laugh, “It’s just... I’m so happy to have you back.” 

 

“Oh, Virge.” Logan smiled softly. “You’ve always had me, no matter how far apart we are.” Virgil buried his face in Logan’s shoulder. 

 

“I love you so much, Lo. You were the best thing to come out that place.” 

 

“I love you too, but I disagree.” 

 

“What?” Virgil lifted his head and frowned. 

 

“How am I supposed to be the best thing that came from there, when you’re my competition?” Logan grinned. 

 

“Huh?” Virgil blinked, twice. “Oh my god. That was so cheesy, Lo!” 

 

“Only ‘your god’? Why not ‘our god’? I never took you for the selfish type, Virge.” Logan wrinkled his nose. His grin growing more mischievous. 

 

“Oh my- UGH! You’re as bad as Patton!” Virgil threw his hands up in exasperation. 

 

“I should think Patton is as bad as me, seeing as I told you horrible jokes first.” Logan laughed, starting down the stairs. “I’m going to deal with the kettle now. You should get dressed.” 

 

“You only do it to cheer me up, but he does it all the tiiiiime! He just doesn’t stop.” Virgil pulled off his sweater, careful of his wounded arm, and set in on his dresser. He hesitantly picked up the soft linen shirt. He needed to get dressed. They only had about an hour until... the others arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, I got a job and am taking a gap semester so, hopefully, updates will happen more regularly. Assuming things arrive at the inspiration station in the appropriate fashion. :p -mm


End file.
